


In the Library

by SinkingStar



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: I wrote this three years ago, M/M, and found it in my documents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingStar/pseuds/SinkingStar
Summary: Jimmy has two days to write this stupid history essay, but this pale git from the year above keeps distracting him.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	In the Library

He was here again. That pale bloke was sprawled across three shelves of Greek Literature; large hardback balanced in one hand, the other arm stretched out along the bookshelf, acting like he bloody owned the place. Jimmy hated him.

Why doesn’t he leave? He could see a tidy stack of books by the guy’s shiny black brogues. Just check them out, already! Jimmy wished he would leave and stop being so irritating. Then he could get on with his history essay – Carson wanted two thousand words on the impact of some tedious war on the upper classes by Tuesday. It was Sunday morning, and Jimmy had written two and half barely coherent sentences.

He sat at his desk in the school library and aimlessly doodled shapes onto his sheet of paper. Apparently, the force of his willpower alone was not enough to magic an essay into existence. Damn. Jimmy would have feigned ill on Tuesday if it had not been the third week running he had come down with a horrific stomach-ache only to make a miraculous recovery an hour later. He had long run out of fake grandmothers to kill off. Boarding school meant there was nowhere to run from rampaging history teachers.

It wasn’t like he had a home to run to anyway. His parents …

Jimmy blinked his vision clear – it had gone blurry for some reason. Probably allergies; the window was wide open, inviting in any stray, tear-inducing spores. He wasn’t crying.

Focus Jimmy. Perhaps he could copy off a friend. Well, he would if he had any. It wasn’t his fault if all the kids round here were bloody idiots and didn’t know a brilliant bloke when he was right in front of them. Fine. Alfred would do. He would offer to do his chores, or to stop flirting with What’s-‘Er-Face or something. Alfred would get them back when Jimmy beat him at cards tomorrow anyway.

Jimmy glanced at his now ruined essay only to see a fumbled, half-finished sketch of a certain tall dark haired figure. Stupid pale git, with his stupid pale face. Was he bloody anaemic? He crumpled up his sheet of paper and lobbed it in the direction of the recycling bin. Entertained the idea of an essay on ‘The existence of history essays and their role in the ruin of society and Sunday mornings’ for a short while.

He chanced another look. Jeez, had the guy even moved? He was still taking up more room than he deserved, wearing a bloody shirt and tie on a weekend. Who was this guy? Jimmy thought he might be in the year above, or maybe even the year above that. He had a strangely angular face. It was all cheekbones and bone structure; very dark hair and and very pale skin. It looked rather pretty. If you liked that sort of thing. Jimmy certainly did not. He wished Cheekbones would look up so he could see his eyes.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Jimmy was wrenched from his people – person? – watching by poorly muffled giggling. Girly giggling. The worst kind. Jimmy had gotten more than his fair share of girly giggling directed at him over the years – being incredibly good looking did that to you – and he knew that the best course of action was to nip this behaviour in the bud before it wandered into stalker territory. Jimmy wanted to avoid that at all costs. He had enough on his plate without yet another airheaded girl mooning after him. However, to his great surprise, when he turned around ready to be firm but kind, perhaps to even comfort the poor deluded girls, he saw that their gaze was not directed at him.

They were looking at Cheekbones. Whispering, and giggling behind their hands. Two girls, younger than Jimmy, neither of them anything to look at, smoothing down their skirts and tossing their hair. Ignoring Jimmy completely. Cheekbones carried on with his book, oblivious.

Clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair he tried to catch the girls’ eye, ready to talk and flirt, anything to stop them looking at Cheekbones in that way. He rocked back until he was swinging on his chair, every school teacher’s worst nightmare. The girls glanced at him - he gave them a grin and an enthusiastic wink.

Too enthusiastic.

He wobbled precariously and fell backward, smacking the back of his head quite painfully against the floor, and causing a tremendous crash that could surely be heard all over England.

He scrambled up, to the sound of renewed giggles, breathing hard, dusting himself off angrily, cheeks burning red. The girls were clutching each other in fits of laughter, wiping tears from the corners of their eyes. He caught a glimpse of Cheekbones holding in his own laughter, but still composed enough to look concerned. Jimmy made a face at him. Cheekbones rolled his eyes but called out to Jimmy’s tormentors:

"Oi! This area is for studying." His voice was cool and calm and demanded authority. It made Jimmy’s legs go weak. Perhaps the fall had affected his motor functions.

" _He_ wasn’t studying." Pointed out one of the girls. She had long, very straight, blonde hair, although it wasn't quite as pretty a shade as Jimmy's. "He was lookin’ at _you_."

Jimmy blushed furiously. "That ain’t true and you know it, you little –" he growled. He glanced back at Cheekbones who was smirking down at his book despite Jimmy’s feeble protests. "I was studying." He crossed his arms angrily and looked away. End of discussion.

"Don’t you have to be able to read to study?" The second girl quipped.

"Well you would know, wouldn’t ya?" said Jimmy, fists clenched, despite his rather weak retort. He was about to mention that her scraped back french braids made her forehead look like the moon, when he noticed that Cheekbones had finally put down his book.

Cheekbones held up his hand, the other, Jimmy noticed, he kept in his pocket, "Hey! Calm down." At this his eyes met Jimmy’s intently. He tore his gaze away. What was wrong with him? "Ladies, I’m afraid this is a quiet study area." He said with a charming smile.

The girls grumbled as Cheekbones ushered them away from Jimmy who was still standing with his fists tightly clenched. Once their giggles could no longer be heard, Jimmy resumed his seat, wishing the ground would swallow him up. A shadow fell across his poor attempts at an essay and he looked up. Cheekbones was looking at him with a guarded expression.

"Women, huh?" Cheekbones joked. Jimmy was aware of the redness in his cheeks and so just shrugged and grunted. Great people skills, Kent. Jimmy saw the smile fade. "… Well this was … I’ll just –" Cheekbones cleared his throat began to turn away.

"I could’ve handled that meself y’know." Jimmy said, suddenly. "I didn’t need your help."

Jimmy saw a flicker of something like hurt in the blue-grey eyes but, too quickly, it was gone. "Mmm, I could see that."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. The back of Jimmy's head still throbbed from his fall, and he felt the sickening prickle of humiliation crawl up the back of his neck. He looked away and began hurriedly shoving his books and sheets of mostly blank paper into his satchel. Cheekbones picked up an thick textbook from Jimmy's table - whose pages had not seenthe light of day since the beginning of term - and looked over it.

"You have Carson?"

Jimmy looked up.

"Yes." He hesitated, still uneasy. "He's wants an essay on the First World War and I've missed three weeks of lessons."

"Let me guess, it focuses on the effect of the upper class?" The other boy rolled his eyes, and then looked at Jimmy closely. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him, and he said, "I know quite a bit about the Great War, and I know how to please Carson. I could talk you through it if you like." His tone sounded light. He still hadn't removed his hand from his pocket.

Jimmy almost declined; he didn't know if he could stand spending more time with the guy who saw him fall flat on his back. But he only had two days to write this stupid essay, and really, he needed all the help he could get. 

Oh sod it, what have I got to lose. Jimmy stuck out his hand. "Jimmy, Jimmy Kent. At your service." He offered a wry grin and the other boy smiled halfway to his eyes.

"Thomas Barrow." He said, taking Jimmy’s hand. The brief contact made Jimmy tingle all over, like he was finally walking into the warm after being out on a cold, wet day.

"Okay, Thomas. When do you want to start?"

"How about right now? I've not got anything else to do today." Thomas sat on the opposite side of Jimmy's table. "What have you got so far?"

Jimmy pulled out the paper from is bag, remembering he had doodled Thomas all over what he had already written. "Um, nothing." He said quickly, stuffing the sheet back into his bag. "I'm a bit lost to be honest with you."

"Right." said Thomas. He sat across from Jimmy and he quickly began to outline the basic causes and effects of the First World War. Jimmy hurriedly started taking notes. 

The drawing he shoved deep into the pocket of his trousers, and wondered why his cheeks still felt warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, will I ever complete or add to this? Who knows. But I enjoyed reading it back so maybe. Also, I'm not really sure when this is set but lets be real, none of us really care.


End file.
